


That One Great Day

by Leafpuff



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Diary/Journal, Getting Back Together, Multi, Post-Canon, Rebirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-05 02:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18356813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafpuff/pseuds/Leafpuff
Summary: "Besides, what have we in this world besides a few friends?"





	1. Chapter 1

_**April 5** _

I realise that I don't really want to talk about it. And one of the reasons I don't let it take up too much of my time is because I don't want to let anyone down in my team- I have standards to uphold, after all, and especially after getting that award, BW. Entrepreneur of the year, I know that I shouldn't be too stupid, I've worked hard to come this far.

 

You probably don't believe me. No one does, really, when they know that I've cooped up myself days and days in this office to get by my work. It's like they all think I'm going to drop dead, soon, because of something that happened so many years ago.

 

I've been snapped at for this a few times. For being too productive, as if that's a bad thing. The most recent example of it I can think of being Miss Whitley, whom I can't really consider a friend. I remember her saying something about me being one of those people who couldn't 'enjoy a sunset'- and that had hurt, at the time, but I knew I had it coming.

 

You see, I'd said something that you don't really remember saying at the time and it hurts you quite a bit when you get it back later. I'd said something about Cheren, in that small gathering, something quite sharp, I suppose, because they still can't get over it.

 

It'd been quite a bit of time since I'd last seen Cheren, he was busy at the school, and finally invited me to the graduation party. The kids were very loud, but I could deal with it, as long as I was in my corner.

 

Anyways, I remember Whitley coming up to me, in that strange, nervous way of hers, and asking me if I needed something.

 

I must've been quite lonely, because I remember being glad that she'd offered me some drinks. I liked her for making small talk with me, but eventually she wheedled in what she really wanted, from me, and I found myself getting bothered.

 

She asked me if I'd known about the big footballer, and whether I'd caught up to the news.

 

You hear about it all the time now, that incident. Especially on the news. Yet it was strange that she should ask me about it, out of all the other things.

 

I snapped, of course, and told her that it wasn't to be any of my business. And, as if to make it a bit worse, I pointed out Cheren, from the crowd, and said that he seemed to be having quite a fun time with the kids.

 

I realise that I sound a bit mad, but I wasn't trying to be nasty. It was just strange to me, that they thought I cared about something someone had done many years ago, and even now they'd like to bring it up in conversation, like I was some charity case. And now that I think of it, I didn't exactly snap. I pointed this stuff out with a calm tone.

 

It's strange because it's been almost fifteen years, but they're still going on about it. I, for one, am completely over it, and if I do think about the incident, from time to time, I'm just uncovering the events in my head so I can be healthy. And Whitley got back to me for it, anyway, like I knew she would, by picking up the phone call.

 

It was a few months after the graduation party, and I'd called them up after getting tired of waiting.

 

"He's in the shower," she said, with the same old, soft tones, except I couldn't bear it. She waited for a minute, then asked me if I was taking care of myself.

 

Well, I could see that she immediately regretted it. She paused, and took a deep breath. Then, as if to make up for it, she said, "It's just that you look a little off these days?"

 

"Off?" I said, the static was bad, I still couldn't hear, "What do you mean by that?"

 

She went off in a ramble, saying how bad things happened often and how we couldn't control it, but I could get the gist of what she was saying, so it struck me particularly when she said something about me not even wanting to look at the sunset.

 

She must've phrased it differently, but it came off a bit daft. I said that it was spiritual of her, to think like that, anyway, I said, I'd only wanted to call up Cheren.

 

She said, "Oh, he's not here right now."

 

"I thought you'd said he was in the shower."

 

More carefully, she said, "Yeah, he just went."

 

She was trying to spare my feelings, talking casually, leading the way up to a serious conversation, like we were old friends- I knew what she was doing, but it hardly made a difference.

 

"Can you tell him to please call me when he can? I'm tired of ringing him up."

 

She said she'd try her best. And that's when I knew, sort of, that things were changing. If you'd told me, a few years ago, that I would be drifting apart from old friends, I would've hardly believed you, because back then we were really all each other had.

 

_**April 6**_

I figured that if I wrote about it I'd have some clearance, so here I am now.

 

I was telling you about Cheren, and him having relied on me (and Bianca) heavily the first few years after the incident. He was a calm guy, no doubt about that, but even those people can have trouble sometimes.

 

That was how he'd gotten to know Whitley, too. Back then they were just teacher and student, so I'd expected some sexy story about some graduation.

 

It wasn't anything like that, certainly. Just me having watched too much porn. For one, Cheren had told me that they didn't even start paying attention to each other until after her graduation, and that even then it was different. The girl was going through a rough time- for a reason he never really explained, and Cheren, like the good guy he was, felt like he could give her some moral support.

 

I know that's a bad excuse, and it's certainly just an excuse for dates and sex, but he assured me that it wasn't the case. He was just helping her with college applications or something like that, and her mom had not been too well. They could hardly have time for a relationship, he said.

 

Yet they did go through it all, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit jealous. Not in that way, like I'm not jealous that he's found someone for himself, but more of the way he's managed to keep them, that's something I could never do.

 

Speaking of lovers, I doubt I'm very concerned about them right now. I was just on the commuter this evening, and happened to see someone who looked just like this guy I knew. He had his hair and everything, and I guess I was filled with longing.

 

It's easy to write things like these in a diary, but I'm just kidding. That's how I get, when I'm dreamy, and I start imagining that everyone looks like someone from my past, and that I have a connection with everyone.

 

But more to the point, he really did look like this old friend of mine. I was quite astonished, really. As the commuter passed by along the railway I heard this guy's voice, deep, vibrational, and I found myself looking out of the window a bit enthusiastically.

 

But of course it wasn't him. I laugh at myself if I'm ever thinking about it. There's no way he's coming back, you see.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**7 April** _

I suppose some part of me decided that it would be no good for me to drive the car to work, because I found myself riding the commuter again this evening. It's not like it's a very good experience, you're squished between lots of sweaty people and it's even worse if you're someone that doesn't like public places. I wouldn't even have gone on the subway if my car hadn't started shamming, but I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the ride this time, because my compartment was very much empty.

 

But it wasn't really that empty, and now that I think of it, I probably enjoyed the ride even more because of the guy sitting two rows in front of me, nodding away with his headphones. I find a lot of people sexy, and I think that's a pretty weird thing, I could fall into a relationship with almost about anyone, since they're all the same when the lights are off.

 

Anyways, I couldn't even see his face, but I just automatically assumed he was sexy- you know the type of posture some people have, like they're the people of the world? He was laidback like that, as if he was perfectly happy with himself. His legs were far apart, enough that he took up a lot of space- which I couldn't even imagine taking, and a gentle smile sat on his face- not too wide, just barely there, like he was almost asleep.

 

_**8 April** _

I know exactly what I'm trying to do. Sometimes I know this and try to write a few words, only to then scratch them off. I suppose it's just some irrational fear within me that this will be read, by peers, perhaps, or someone else- but that's just the silliest thing. We aren't in kindergarten anymore, and who even cares about my diary?

 

That's just one of the reasons I mind writing about the doppleganger thing. It's like it's not even real, but it's harder and harder to convince yourself that when-

 

But I'm going off here. The thing I wanted to talk about was the 'sexy headphones guy', back in the bus. I do see him now and then when I go, and I've decided to ask him out on a date. He's just my type, really, but I'm not that anxious about taking him out, which I think is a good thing.

 

_**9 April** _

It's a good weather. I think. The sun's shining brightly and there's a lot of friends and couples out on the streets. I have to work in today- not that I mind, I think it's a lot better than walking the summer streets on your own.

  
_**10 April** _

That entry was so short, so I thought I'd explain. Part of the reason I'd kept inside the day before was so I could conduct a few interviews for this new movie- it's quite a good deal. I had a lot of people coming in to play the 'alien king', which was the main part, and it baffled me how many people thought they could really pull this off. I suppose they were fooled by the movie's plotline- 'peasant discovers that he's the actual king, falls in love with a princess and takes back the throne,' that does sound a little silly, I'll admit, even clichè, but the movie is really much more than that. The characters are much more than that.

 

Anyway, I was almost convinced that the final interview was going to fail, until I saw this guy coming in. He must've not seen me, and that's a good thing, because I was acting pretty weird by then.

 

It's like you've seen a painting a lot, everyday, and you're quite fond of it. Maybe it's yours, or maybe it belongs to someone else. Anyways, you can't look at it anymore, and it's out of view, and that kind of gives you the creeps. At one point you forget about the painting, but it still feels like you're missing something. Like no matter how rich and successful you are you can never have that painting again-

 

I realise that's a pretty shit terminology, I realise that, but I don't really have much else to say. When this guy came along I couldn't really tell the difference between him and my old friend, and I could barely breathe. I was so excited, and so stupidly happy.

 

It was really when he started talking that I felt the realisation hit me. At first it was gradual, like he would touch his hair in all the wrong places, and then he would stand very straight sometimes- I didn't really have a problem with that, but as he began to do this more often I began to loathe it. He was shy, too, and it was only when he started speaking in soft tones to the manager that I started realising it. Then it hit me like a ton of breaks.

 

He was very, very different from the guy I knew, in fact, he was an entirely different person.

 

I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps I was expecting him to have amnesia, like they show in the movies. He'd look at me, do a start, and then he'd realise that he was someone else all along, that he just didn't remember.

 

But I can see now there's no chance of that happening. Not at all.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_**12 April** _

There were a lot of things going on, especially with the casting, that stopped me from going back to my diary. Like I said, I really didn't care much for the interviewees until the new guy came in- he was quite good, and came up to me to talk about the movie. The director had asked him to, he'd said.

 

I could see that he looked very confused. His eyebrows were knitted together, as we were conversing, and even then, I could see a certain gleam in his eye.

 

"Do I know you?" He'd said, eventually.

 

 _Do I know you?_ That doesn't seem like an important question, and it's certainly not that rare. Sometimes, I think people just put that line on you to pretend that you have something in common, and it works as a good pick-up line. It did annoy me, however, so I quickly asked him what he thought about the film.

 

"The film?" He said, still confused. He almost looked lost, then, and I couldn't help but add:

 

"You're on our list of potentials," I had to show him the scripts and everything, because he still looked confused, "You'll need to take these home, there's a good chance you'll get a call-back."

 

I could see the worried frown immediately leaving his face, and a small smile appear in place of it.

 

"That's great!" He said, "You know I don't really mind reading the whole script and everything, but I was wondering if I'd need to do it just in case-"

 

"Oh, yeah, don't worry." I frowned, in case he thought I was giving him precedence or anything, as I was looking over the papers, "You're definitely gonna need it."

 

As I was going over the papers, I can't explain it, but there was this look. I could feel his gaze digging deeper, and it really wasn't very fun.

 

"Do you need anything else?" I still couldn't lift my eyes to meet his, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some trouble keeping my face straight, "You'll find our contacts on the website."

 

"Right," he said, voice going a little cold, "contacts."

 

"And a copy of the screentest-"

 

"Right," he said, "and you're the manager?"

 

"I am," I said, finally turning my face upto him, "but that's not like, super important. What I'd recommend is getting to know the big players, here, and if you really want that role in your pocket-"

 

"Okay," he said, again with the frown, and looked at me searchingly, "and, uh-"

 

He turned still, quite abruptly.

 

I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was the pressure of becoming a celebrity reaching its breaking point, or something like that. You get people like that all the time here, young waiters and waitresses who've put their literal lives on the line to make a career out of what they love. And then they fail. At any rate, I could see that he was pretty frustrated, even with himself, as the tears began streaming down his face.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, and then paused. I could see that he was really having some trouble controlling it, try as hard as he might. I told him that he needn't worry.

 

"I didn't know you wanted the role that much," I'd said quickly, "but I'll see what I can do."

 

"I really don't know what's gotten into me," he kept saying, as he was wiping his eyes, "I don't know what's gotten into me- it'd been perfectly alright."

 

"But you don't have to worry about it," I'd said, "happens all the time- so, what was your name, again?"

 

He looked quite startled.

 

"Burrakku," he managed, then, softly, "Burrakku, and I come from a small town in Pennsylvania.'

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**13 April**

 

Now, after hearing this, you probably thought I'd said something to him, something emotional and weird like, "Do you remember me? We used to do this and that." But I didn't, and I have a very good reason as to why I didn't ask him those things.

 

You see, I was wondering what the old Burrakku would've thought of it, I was wondering if he would've wanted me to remind the new Burrakku. By this point, I was pretty convinced that, in the time that had passed since his departure, Burrakku had forgot many things, and I wasn't sure if I could really bring up the past.

 

You see, I don't think old Burrakku would have wanted me to remind him. Why do I think that? Well, because he left us. And I'm sure he had some good enough reason, but now I don't want to take that away from him, now that he's here.

 

Actually, I'm more than sure, and I remember in those times- when Bianca and me and the others were still friends- I'd done that terrible thing. During the football tournament, which might have been the reason why he'd gone off in the first place.

 

Burrakku was, as usual, training with his coach. It was a clear night, and I had my laptop with me- the one I had in college. I was in the locker room, by myself, and I remember being nervous because I'd already started typing away an article.

 

Anyway, those were the days that Burrakku would flat out refuse to talk to me. He did it quite kindly, like you wouldn't even notice. But I still couldn't quite get the hint. I'd been told that he wasn't in the club today, or something like that. I'd told the Secretary I'd wait, it was important. Back then I was still pretty desperate.

 

Anyway, you might think I was justified in my anger, when I saw him running laps in the stadium. Then a kind of exhaustion overtook me, as I saw him running from the seats. How do I describe it? As I started seeing him I began to admire him more and more, from every angle, and that's what exhausted me. I was very tired of looking at him like that, and I think part of that caused the anger.

 

I waited for him for a bit, I was hoping he would look at me. And then he did, but he didn't look like at me like I was his friend, there was this new smile on his face- laidback, like I was someone he was seeing for the very first time. He did a wave at me- like he would a fan- and sauntered on to talk to his coach.

 

You probably want to know about the terrible thing I'd done back then. Well, I sort of told him, to his face; when he'd returned to the locker room, half-expecting me to have already left. It's sort of jumbled in my memory and I don't remember the words exactly, but I'd told him it was fine, fine if he didn't want to see me. Then I did something unforgivable, I said that none of us wanted to see him anyway. I know I didn't say Cheren and Bianca's names outright, but I know he was heartbroken.

 

His face changed, it was like a very kind person going very blank. I still think of it sometimes, the fact that he never argued back- just silence. We never had any arguments... the hours would start ticking. Then he took his bag and left.

 

That was his way. Now, if you had an argument with me, I'd say some pretty hurtful things to you, and then you'd say something right back. After it was over we would all be a bit better off, like we'd just played a ping-pong match. But if I were Burrakku you'd never be forgiven. You'd never have your say, and he'd leave you just like that. He'd be so disappointed in you.

 

Now I feel kind of bad making you feel that, but that was what I felt on the daily, especially during the last few days of his departure. Like I was walking on egg shells. At first glance it doesn't really seem like a fault- it's such a tiny thing, him being like this, but it's a fault nevertheless, especially if it affects others more than it could ever affect you.

 

And if he forgets me? Well, that's fine. I never hoped to make a dent on his heart anyway.

 


End file.
